


Stability

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [27]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Beau is there, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute Ending, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, I don't know, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Missions, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Separation Anxiety, Service Dogs, Starbucks, Therapy, and Bucky has a bit of skinny love, and stuff, consecutive chapter, fiction of the fiction, it's light though, otp, probably, what is normal?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stability

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has been finished for two weeks, and I've had no opportunity to sit down and edit/post. So, naturally, I changed everything in it today... Don't worry, it was for the better.
> 
> I've outlined the last few chapters, changed everything, outlined again, changed everything, outlined again, and it will (hopefully) stay that way while I write. (Ha)

When Steve wakes, he's alone, and almost at once his hand is searching across the empty mattress. He tries to get his bearings, edges of a hazy nightmare still ghosting through his mind, “Bucky?” He whispers into the dark. He pushed himself up to look around better, “Buck?” He paused a moment, listening for a response. He tosses the blankets back, climbing out of bed, and tugging on some sweatpants. He check his phone, and it's a little past three, so Bucky's not at work yet. He thinks about calling him, but Bucky’s phone still rests on the desk beside his, so he's forced to abandon that plan, and wander quietly through the house.

Bucky had been fine the previous night - or, he'd seemed fine, at least. Steve could usually tell, but once Bucky had reached what his therapist described as full recovery, Bucky took to normality in the most introverted way he possibly could, and that meant he could hardly be read when he chose not to be.

Steve had been notified of a small lead, a very small lead a few states over, one that may compromise Bucky's security, though Steve hadn't dared to tell Bucky this much. Only that he had a mission that may keep him away from home a few days. Bucky had seemed to take it well, but he was always so strong... It was necessary, or he wouldn't have even agreed to go. It was important for all of this to be dampened out before it even had a moment to surface. It was crucial. Bucky had responded with a surprising nonchalance, going on to ask where Steve was taking him for dinner.

Then later, during the night Bucky had been constant at his side, open, and receptive to his touch, but so, so quiet. Waking up to an empty bed was a worrisome thing, and he’s weak with relief when he finds that Bucky’s still there. He's sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, blankets wrapped around himself, petting a sleeping Beau under the soft glow of an ignored TV. He sighs softly, and Bucky glances over his shoulder at the sound. It's a very brief glance, and he looks away at once. “Sorry,” he whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Steve moves to fill the space on the carpet beside him. He's writing in a notebook, looking a little stressed, but mostly okay. “Everything okay?” Steve asks softly.

Bucky nods, a short, jerky movement, not looking at Steve anymore. "Got a lot to do," He mumbles, "can't sleep."

“Can I sit with you?” Steve asks softly.

“You don’t have to.” Bucky insists, “I’m okay. Just working. You can go back to bed.”

“Do you mind?” Steve asks, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder, “I need it.”

There's a long moment while Bucky considers this, and then he pulls him in, both of them shifting until Steve was resting comfortably, head cradled against Bucky's shoulder. “Nightmare?” Bucky guesses, and presses his lips to Steve's forehead. “You’ve been having a lot lately.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, resting his palm against Bucky's chest, measuring the rate of his heart as subtly as he could because he still wasn't convinced Bucky was fine. “I get them more often when I’m stressed.”

“I understand,” Bucky sighs, "Me too." and for a moment, Steve can see a hint of distress, but when Bucky looks back to his notebook, all signs of hysteria vanish into a perfect mask of indifference. He writes for several minutes, not looking up, not saying anything, but when he looks up, straight into the TV, though Steve knew he was as oblivious to the images on it as he was. He sighs, and tosses his notebook aside, staring straight ahead of himself as he speaks. "Tell me it gets better." He whispers, and somehow, Steve knew exactly what he meant.

"It gets better," Steve promises, "The worst is behind us."

Bucky looks at him, and Steve might be imagining the desperation in his eyes, "Tell me that you love me."

"I love you," Steve whispers.

Bucky closes his eyes, laying his head on Steve's shoulder, "Tell me everything is going to be okay."

Steve kissed his forehead, "Everything is going to be just fine, sweetheart."

Then, Bucky climbed into Steve's lap, staring at him. Reading him, or trying to, somewhere along the road he’d started misreading things, and he can’t trust his own judgement anymore. Steve seems to be honest, his expression soft, and concerned, and loving. After a moment, he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Bucky rests his head on Steve's shoulder, and, Steve could see the tiniest trace of fear in his eyes before they close. Then, Bucky grabs his hand, drawing his arm around him, waiting until Steve took the hint, and held him. “I feel so safe like this.” he whispers, and Steve felt his heart melt a little, but his hold never loosened.

As exhaustion slowly took the place of stress, slow breaths gradually relaxed James’ tense shoulders, and the rest of the night is easier. That's not to say it was easy by any means. That's only proved to be true as Steve holds him the next morning, doing his best to soothe him as he fights through an anxiety attack, rubbing a hand firmly over the length of his spine, wanting to give comfort, but also security, wanting him to not only feel safe, but to feel protected.

Afterwards, James just seemed drained.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go in today,” Steve suggests, catching his eye on the mirror from the bathroom door. “Pepper would understand.”

Bucky shakes his head, fixing his collar “I want to.” He mumbles, and Bucky wasn’t yet sure how much truth there was to that statement, but idle time wouldn't do him any good right now.

Of course there was no fooling Miss Potts, and she tried to send him home right away, and again after lunch, but James insisted against it, going through the motions of helping her plan, doing anything he could to prevent his mind from wandering back, though he felt that, overall, it was very little help.

Steve drops in about an hour before he clocks out with Beau on a leash, and Bucky is as confused as he is concerned when he notices him in the doorway, dressed in full uniform.

He calls Bucky to the door, past the metal detector because he’s armed, and as soon as he’s close enough, he takes him in his arms and kisses him as he’s always done before a mission.

"You told me you weren't leaving until Wednesday." Bucky accuses, and though he barely shows it, he looks angry, and hurt.

"Different mission, I swear." Steve says, "I'll be back in an hour. Two at the most."

And as always, Bucky’s strong to his face, and worried the moment he disappears through the door. He’s tempted with overtime to distract himself, but doesn’t fight when Ms. Potts tells him to call it a day. He’s starting to feel the anxiety, and the stress from work wasn’t helping with that.

Steve knew how he got. It wasn’t like Bucky could actually hide anything from him. That’s one of the reasons he’d brought Beau. One of the reasons they’d had Beau trained as a psychiatric service dog. For moments like this when he needed the support. The moment he begins to panic, Beau is there, placing his head on Bucky’s knee, and bringing his focus back. It helps, but he knows he has to remove himself from the stress. He takes Beau’s leash, and checks with Pepper before clocking out.

Bucky visits his therapist after work, and he's in and out in half an hour, somehow feeling worse than when he'd gone in. Diagnosis always had a way of upsetting him rather than helping him as he's been told it should, and even the briefest mentions of antidepressants had him shaking his head. They just didn’t work, and he was supposed to be past this. He was okay, and like Steve said, he just needed rest and he’d be back to normal, but he was starting to believe feeling better wasn't an option. Maybe this was as good as it got, maybe there wasn't a way to recover from trauma. Maybe this was his normal. Steve still struggles from time to time, so why wouldn’t he? Maybe Bucky's asking for peace is too much.

Steve still isn't there when he gets back, and after he changes clothes, when he tries to settle in a dark space, Beau tries to coax him out, and when it doesn't work, he brings him one of his toys, pestering him with it until he finally tossed it across the den. Bucky is glad for the company. The non-judgmental company, most of all, and once he's successfully pulled out of his habitual isolation, he gets Beau’s leash, and takes him to one of the communal floors. He's learned months ago not to be alone while Steve was on missions, though he doesn't like to follow that rule. He knows his own anxiety would get to him, and without Clint or Natalia to keep him company, he had to improvise.

The floor of minor offices where the interns work, he finds is the least stressful. Probably because he's not even sure anybody actually _works_ on the intern floor. It's very laid back and calm, and with Beau as an intermediary, it had served as a sanctuary of sorts many times. Also, he could usually count on the interns to do a Starbucks run whenever he wanted, especially since it was usually his treat. A small price to pay for the help it gave.

He stays there until Steve texts him, listening to music and petting Beau, who had mellowed out significantly from his training, but was still the same lovable ball of fur he was when they'd picked him out. Still clumsy and on the small side, but he was by no means underfed anymore, probably because they were both suckers for puppy dog eyes. Bucky takes him upstairs, and gives him a treat, meeting Steve fresh out of the shower to discuss dinner plans, which consisted of ordering pizza, eating it in bed, and cuddling afterwards, and Bucky's so relieved to see him home safely, he can't even be upset anymore.

"Isn't it a little late for coffee?" Steve asks as Bucky snuggles into his side, coffee in one hand, laptop balanced haphazardly on his knee. 

"Isn't it a little late for stupid questions?" Bucky counters, and Steve smiles, making a small gesture in surrender.

"Okay, then." He allows, "How about this one: since when do you like your coffee blonde?"

"Variety is the spice of life." Bucky murmurs. "Just because I brew my coffee as dark as my soul doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good Starbucks."

Steve chuckles, and takes the coffee from his hands, setting it aside, then doing the same with the laptop, "I really wish you'd stop making me fall in love with you." Steve murmurs, and when he turns back, Bucky is smiling. Steve brushes his hair back gently, "It's really distracting."

"Sorry," Bucky shrugs innocently, but his his lips were pursed in that flirty little smile that was oh, so welcoming, and he definitely was anything _but_ sorry. There was only one way things could really go from there.

Bucky doesn't really remember if his clothes survived. Nor does he care, to be honest. As a matter of fact, very little matters to him right now, as he lays, feeling disjointed, limbs like jello as he rests in a heap of post-coital mush, the only thing he could possibly think about being his utter repentance over anything negative he'd ever said against Steve's new body.

Steve is laying beneath him, on his back, an arm tucked lazily behind his head, a small, secret smile on his lips. He looks a mess - a cocky mess - and James is a hundred percent sure he looks a thousand times worse, especially when Steve smiles like that, so undoubtedly pleased with his work. It was the only time James would ever go so far as to call Steve an exhibitionist. He'd rarely kiss him in public, but he had no problem letting James limp around the tower after an exceptionally good morning, looking completely wrecked, neck decorated with love bites, hair disheveled and sticking in all directions, and lips swollen from their kisses.

Not that Bucky had a problem with that.

Bucky let his fingers stroke absently over one of the hickeys he'd left on Steve's neck, already faded to a yellowed bruise. Steve looks down at him then, and James pulls himself up, kissing that damn smirk off his lips.

Steve's fingers curled around the back of his neck, and drew him in for a deeper kiss than Bucky had intended, but he can only melt into it, weak, and pliant. He can taste himself on Steve's tongue, and wants to moan. Maybe he does, because Steve buries his fingers in his hair, and bites his lip. Bucky's breath hitches softly, and he breaks away, collapsing again on Steve's chest, and exhaling a long, tired groan. "I need a nap first.” Bucky sighs, snuggling against Steve’s chest, and sighing softly. "Then we can go again."

“You should just take some time off.” Steve suggests, voice a little deeper, a little huskier than it usually was. “A vacation - at least a long weekend.”

“Mmm,” James sighs, smiles, “We should take a second honeymoon.”

“Technically, we’d have to have a first honeymoon before we could have a second.”

Bucky groans, moving enough to glare at him, “So, we’ll have a first honeymoon." He waves a disinterested hand, "Technicalities.”

Steve smiles, wrapping his arms around him, “Traditionally, a wedding would come first.”

"I was _trying_ to be cute," Bucky complains, but otherwise, he doesn't even miss a beat, “If you're so anxious to settle down, why don't you ask me?” he challenges, sighing lazily.

“Nah,” Steve sighs, tracing James’ lower lip, “I think I'll wait for you to do it.”

"Punk." Bucky sighs, dragging his head up and offering an amused smile, “Marry me?”

Steve's heart flutters a little, but he only smiles. “Now, Bucky. I know you can find a more romantic way than that.” he teases.

Bucky groans softly, mumbling about him being a _high maintenance little shit_ as he snuggles back into Steve's chest, “I just want a nap.”

Steve pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “Then sleep,” he whispers, and cards fingers through his hair.

"How can I _possibly_ sleep with you smiling at me like a fuckin’ serial killer?"

"Shh," Steve kisses him, and tugs the blankets tighter. "Sleep."

Bucky smiles in spite of himself, sighing contentedly when Steve pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was a good evening after a tough day, relaxing enough to help him wind down, and being so sleepy, falling asleep was effortless, and Steve was the perfect pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually sort of proud of myself.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for the read. :)


End file.
